


thinking of your tender touch

by timber_river



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Praise Kink, Sexual Fantasy, Telepathic Bond, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timber_river/pseuds/timber_river
Summary: Darryl is under a spell that lets him see and feel Henry's thoughts and fantasies, and Darryl is completely overwhelmed.--(-long legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back, hands grasping his shoulders, dirty blonde hair pressed against the side of the car as Henry's head tilts back, eyes closed in bliss, devastating little moans being gasped into each other's mouths, and sweet, hot, pressure-)The car swerves to a stop as Darryl whips his head around, (what the fuck, what the fuck) and he sees Henry looking back at him, holding the door handle in a tight grip."Whoa, was there something in the road?""No, I- what was that? What- why'd you say that?"Henry tilts his head, brow furrowing. "I didn't- what did I say?"
Relationships: Henry Oak/Darryl Wilson, Henry Oak/Mercedes Oak-Garcia/Darryl Wilson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 115





	thinking of your tender touch

Darryl is driving them all to their next spot, hoping that they'll find Grant and also worried that they'll find Grant, considering the Lance's curse. He's listening to Glenn snore in the back seat and to the complete lack of noise from Ron (they've since learned that it's just how he sleeps, though not before they had one panicked night where they thought he'd died), and Darryl find himself taking glances at Henry out of the corner of his eye.

Henry is unusually quiet from his spot in the passenger's seat. Typically a chatty driving partner, he now seems content to stare out at the trees passing by, a thoughtful frown on his face.

Darryl is just about to ask if everything's alright, when he sees Henry glance back at him, and then away, and then he hears Henry, apropos of nothing, say, longingly:

"Geeze, those arms. I bet he could just lift me up and fucking _use_ me."

And Darryl feels like he's been run over as he sees and feels-

(- _long legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back, hands grasping his shoulders, dirty blonde hair pressed against the side of the car as Henry's head tilts back, eyes closed in bliss, devastating little moans being gasped into each other's mouths, and sweet, hot, pressure_ -)

The car swerves to a stop as Darryl whips his head around, ( _what the fuck, what the fuck_ ) and he sees Henry looking back at him, holding the door handle in a tight grip.

"Whoa, was there something in the road?"

"No, I- what was that? What- why'd you say that?"

Henry tilts his head, brow furrowing. "I didn't- what did I say?"

Darryl can feel his palms sweat and his hands flex around the steering wheel, as he can't help but think about-

(- _green eyes, glazed with pleasure, hot breath against his mouth_ -)

Darryl looks at Henry, beseechingly. "I...you said, about- my arms?"

Henry's eyebrows raise. "Your arms?"

Darryl doesn't know what to do. He can still feel the shocks going up and down his spine from...whatever that was. 

(- _hot and sweet, and_ Henry _and-_ )

And even though Darryl had clearly heard Henry say _that_ , and then Darryl had some sort of, he doesn't know, vision or vivid hallucination, (- _so real, so good_ -), but Henry just looks confused and increasingly concerned the longer that Darryl doesn't say anything.

Breaking, Darryl looks back at the road, avoiding eye contact, and says, "I- I guess I just imagined it, then."

"Are you alright? You're looking kind of red," Henry peers at him, green eyes concerned and crinkling at the corners. "Do you need some suntan lotion? I think I've got some in my bag, one sec."

Henry rummages in his bag and then pulls out the tube, with a cheerful, "Ah-ha!"

Darryl mutters, "Thanks," and grabs it. As he does, he hears Henry, _without moving his mouth_ , say, "Yeah, I wish I could just..."

And then suddenly Darryl is transported, and he can _feel_ Henry's hands, warm and careful, cupping the sides of Darryl's head, fingertips curled almost protectively around his skull. Darryl feels stunned by the almost reverent look on Henry's face, as his thumbs spread the pleasant-smelling balm on Darryl's cheeks, rubbing in smooth, gentle circles.

After what feels like an eternity, Henry pulls his hands away, satisfied (- _wait don't go_ -) and then places one hand on Darryl's jaw to reel him in, wide-eyed, and Henry proceeds to press a soft, lingering kiss to Darryl's forehead and then another just below his eye. 

Darryl kind of feels like his heart just melted and exploded, all at once, and now it's all just warm molten shrapnel in his chest.

Henry smiles, happy, and Darryl's whole vision is filled with it, and he feels his heart reform to beat hummingbird fast in his chest.

Darryl feels some sort of weight give way, one that he didn't know was there, and Darryl finally lets his eyes close, leaning into Henry's hands. He turns to press a kiss into Henry's palm, safe and warm and-

(- _please, just this, forever and ever_ -)

"Darryl?"

Henry's voice breaks through and Darryl is back, _no idea what the fuck is going on_ and getting whiplash at seeing Henry, obviously alarmed, when seconds ago he'd been smiling at him, gentle and adoring.

"Darryl, are you okay? Do you wanna go lie down?" and Darryl, caught on Henry's mouth and what it had felt like, notices that it is definitely now moving with what he's saying.

Flustered and off-kilter, all Darryl can manage is, "I gotta- I'm gonna go put this on outside," before he bolts from the car, away from Henry and all his earnest concern.

Walking quickly toward the forest, he hears Henry say from behind him, bewildered, "I- okay! Call for help if you need anything. We'll be right here."

Without turning around, he waves back with a vaguely affirmative motion, and walks even faster.

\--

When Darryl feels like he's far enough into the forest that he can have some privacy for his much needed breakdown, he stops and just- breathes.

(- _in and out, in and out, in and_ -)

And the, just when he feels like he's calmed down enough to think things through, he hears Henry's voice, as if right next to him, sigh and say, "Well, dang."

While he's spinning around wildly, looking for the source of the voice, stomach dropping in startled panic, he hears Henry say, longing, "I wish Mercedes were here. She'd know what to do about all this."

And then he hears Henry go, "Oh, hm..."

And then Darryl almost trips over his own feet as he feels the phantom heat and presence of two people _very close to him_ , when there'd been no people around him a second earlier.

Darryl blinks down at Mercedes Oak-Garcia, and he finds that he's not as surprised as he would be under normal circumstances. Mercedes smiles up at him, no confusion or stress in her expression about why she's suddenly appeared here; he feels like something is strangely familiar about how she's looking at him, and with a sudden flash of insight, he realizes why.

She's looking at him like Henry was, in the Henry-lotion vision: ( _-oh no, bad description, bad-_ ) open and warm, and happy, seemingly just because _Darryl_ is there, which is just-

That doesn't make any sense, because he's not- 

(- _not-smart-enough, not-confident-enough, not-kind-enough, not-beautiful-enough, not-good-enough, not-like-_ )

(- _he's not enough to light someone else up, just by_ being there-)

Anyway, Darryl knows all this about himself, intimately, and so he knows that this can't be real, that she isn't real-

(- _they'd never look at him like that, like how they look at each other_ -)

-and he's just about to pinch himself to snap himself out of this, when he feels her hand touch his chest and he freezes.

He's always felt a little awkward, compared to Mercedes. She makes charming people look effortless, even though he thinks it must take a lot of practice. It's a trait that Darryl would love to have, especially after seeing her in action, but he can never quite manage to ask her how she does it.

He's proud to be able to call her one of his friends, though they had a rough start. The first time they invited the Oak-Garcias over, it was for a beer tasting, and Mercedes took one look at his brew set-up, pointed, and said, "Hi, it's very nice to meet you, but that is _completely wrong_."

They argued for a good hour or so about proper brewing methodology and equipment, and then Darryl brought out his tools and Mercedes looked at them, made a face, and brought out her own tools from their car, which sparked another hour long argument; during the whole thing, Henry tried to make awkward small-talk with Carol, stopping every so often to gaze adoringly at his wife.

By the end of the night, Darryl and Mercedes were thoroughly drunk and swinging around tools, yelling happily and incomprehensibly at each other until their significant others dragged them away to try and put them into their respective beds.

Darryl learned a lot that night, both about beer and about Mercedes. He learned that she was very smart and capable, and he appreciated that she would fight and argue for as long as it took for the other person to understand that she was right and they were wrong. And then when they understood the error of their ways, she would cheerfully show them how to fix it.

Darryl was never quite sure if it was the company or the beer or some combination of the two, but he pretty much always enjoyed being around the Oak-Garcias. At their core, they were very sweet people, and he felt comfortable and cared about whenever he was around them. Carol and Darryl agreed (which didn't happen too often, even in those days) that it was always fun to have the Oak-Garcias over. And so they were invited to the Wilson household, fairly regularly.

What Darryl always forgot to account for, before it was too late, was that all those visits also meant seeing the Oak-Garcias beam and flirt and gaze adoringly at each other; it meant seeing Mercedes' cute dimples when she smiled and getting to hear her even cuter giggling fits and it meant trying to understand her excited rants about the latest audio technology; it meant seeing the little crinkles at the corners of Henry's eyes when he smiled and seeing him constantly worrying at his lips until Mercedes tugged him down by the ear to apply chapstick, in front of God and everyone, and hearing his almost maniacal cackles turn into adorable wheezing when he'd told a particularly terrible rock pun.

The Oak-Garcias could be infuriating sometimes, especially about the weirder things they believed in (no meat, granola for every meal, hating David Attenborough, etc.), but they also clearly tried their best to be good and kind to the people they cared about, and Darryl always quietly admired that.

Visits from the Oak-Garcias also meant kissing. So much kissing, and so many little loving touches and heated gazes and terms of endearment, and-

Well. Any of that is enough to make anyone wonder. Sometimes.

And even though he's pretty sure that this isn't real, Darryl still finds himself trying to tamp down the familiar whirlwind of feelings he has every time he sees either of them.

(- _he doesn't want to be thinking about them this way, he doesn't, he doesn't want to betray his vows and he wants to respect_ their _vows, but-_ )

(- _it can't be denied that she is- that he is- that_ they _are_ -)

(- _so kind, so funny, so confident, so lovely,_ _so_ _beautiful_ -)

Watching him watch her, Mercedes smiles wider, dimples in full-force, and Darryl breath hitches, just a little bit. He feels spellbound, not knowing what's coming next, and hesitant to stop this and see them disappear.

Voice soft and low, Mercedes says, "Come here," and she slides her hand up to the back of his neck, leaving a tingling trail of sensation everywhere she touches. She pulls him down, down, towards her, with the lightest of pressure, while checking his face for any sign of discomfort. He finds himself moving, unable (- _not wanting_ -) to deny her, and he watches as her eyes darken in pleasure as he follows her lead.

Darryl jumps as Henry's head comes into view, hooking over Darryl's shoulder from behind. He doesn't look upset at Mercedes or Darryl. Far from it. Henry is clearly thrilled and aflush with adoration as he looks between Darryl and his wife.

Pressed all along Darryl's back, Henry is a tall tempting line of heat, and Darryl can feel himself start to flush, anticipation building for whatever's to come.

Henry looks at Mercedes, searchingly, and when she nods, Darryl gives a startled yelp which quickly turns into a groan, as Henry grips his hips and grinds against his lower back, teasingly. Darryl can feel all the remaining blood in his body rush downward, and he feels so eager, sensitive to any touch. He was already hard from all the earlier visions, and now he's _aching_.

Mercedes leans in, her eyes fluttering closed, and Darryl doesn't stop her as she moves her mouth against his, warm and steady and soft. Her calm exploration is at odds with Henry's, who is nipping and sucking bruises all along Darryl's neck, creating what he's sure would be giant purple marks for anyone to see, if this were real.

When he realizes that both of them are competing to make him lose it, all the sensations become even brighter and more intense, until he's moaning, flushed and needy, stupidly desperate considering that they haven't done all that much and he already feels _wrecked_.

He presses back into the friction of Henry's hips and nips at Mercedes' lower lip while hesitantly placing his hands on her waist, hoping that they understand what he's asking for.

Mercedes hums, pleased, and Darryl feels his whole body warm at her approval. She licks at the bow of his lips, a question, and Darryl opens up, eager to have her make that sound again, and then it's all warm and wet and panting and Henry and Mercedes both moaning into his ear in between the biting and the sucking, saying, "-so good, you're so good, _fuck_ , we knew you would be, all of this, it's just for us, we're gonna keep you and we're gonna treat you so good, keep you ready for us always, _god_ , you're so fucking perfect-" and on and on until Darryl is whining, ready for anything, _anything_ that they'll give him, he'll take it, this is so much, so much more than he ever thought was possible-

Then, just as soon as it starts, it stops.

Darryl opens his eyes, not knowing when he'd closed them, panting for breath, in an empty forest, with no one in sight. The tube of lotion is being strangled in his white-knuckled hand.

Darryl Wilson stands there, increasingly cold and embarrassed, and knows that it's time to face facts.

He has absolutely no idea how or why any of this is happening, besides- well. 

(- _besides the usual reasons that you would fantasize about having sex with two of your married friends_ -)

Heart thudding painfully and guiltily in his chest, Darryl can't help but think that it has been a long, long time since he has felt anything like _that_ with his (probably soon to be ex-) wife, during sex or otherwise.

(- _god, you're so good, so perfect, we'll treat you so good and keep you, just for us_ -)

Shoving his burning face into his hands, Darryl groans, and finally acknowledges what he's known for a while now: he's _fucked_.

\--

Somewhere, far away, Scam Likely cackles, gleefully. "Oh, this will be _delightful_."

**Author's Note:**

> RIP Darryl, Henry thinks about sex like, 100 times a day, and thinks nothing of it. And he has a very active imagination.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment or a kudos! It fuels me :D


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